LOGIN♪♪ Prey • by EMO
✿✿✿ LILAH Silence. Unendurable headache. Coldness consuming my limp body. Where the fuck am I ? Groaning, I force my eyes open but meet with a pool of darkness. The last thing I remember is the bald dickhead hit me hard on the nut and I swooned. When I try to clutch my head, I can't move my hands and then I realize I'm sitting on a chair with hands and legs tied. When my eyes adjust the darkness, I descry faint ray coming in the dark room from the aperture of a ventilator. Lucy is placed in front of me, in the same position as mine, unconscious, head thrown aback and mouth hung open. "Lucy! Get the fuck up!" I call her, wiggling my hands and legs to get them free but all my attempt pass in vain. "C'mon bitch, we're trapped and you're snoring like a pig. Get up before I kick your indolent ass." I shout and keep wiggling in hope if the knots ever lose. Whoever tied us up was so proficient at his job that the ties don't bulge even after the storm I caused on them, instead my hands become grievously sore. I hear a groan from Lucy as my head snap toward her. She looks around and blinks her eyes for a moment to adjust them with the semi darkness before they land on me. She stares at me for a few moments like she's looking at me for the first time. Does she have amnesia? Omg not now! But suddenly her eyes widen and she starts wiggling like reality crushes over her. "Oh my God! Where the fuck we are, Lilah?" She screams. "In heaven." I smiled tightly. "Stop joking! I feel awful." She wails, looking at me like a lost puppy. "It's all your fault. If you joined me in karate and boxing, today we wouldn't have to see a day like this." I scoff. "Stop blaming me, you nag. First of all we have to find a way to get out of this room." "I think there's no way." I sigh. "But there has to be—" Lucy stops mid sentence when we hear something cracks open. Our heads immediately snap toward the source of noise and we get alert. A metallic door opens fully with a clattering sound, revealing three tall and muscular silhouettes standing at the doorway before they move their intimidating figure toward us. When some of them, click the lights on, I instantly close my eyes for the sudden source of piercing effulgence. I hiss as my head starts hurting more. After a few moments of clenching my eyes shut, I slowly open them and blink a few times to adjust my vision. And the first thing I meet is the bald dickhead, Dimitri and a dirty big room full of crates and two other foreign men, I recognize the curly head who pressed a piece of cloth on Lucy's face and made her unconscious. The last thing I wanted to be in a basement of a warehouse with three bulky Russians. They men are wearing black head to toe, paler skin, dazzling eyes and dark hair. Without a doubt, every one of them is taller, more intimidating, handsome, muscular and well-built than any other man out there in the city, or should I say I've ever seen in my life. "Why the fuck were you following me?" Dimitri is the one who speaks first with a foreign accent and a hard but sedated tone. "To see how cowardly man you are to attack a decent woman from behind." I blatter my lashes and reply with a tight smile. "You thought we don't know you were following us?" He ignores me before dangerously glaring at me. "Here I thought you guys are brainless." "What's your purpose?" He again asks with that sharp tone, ignoring my pitchiness. "Rubbing our pussies on your bald head." Lucy blurts out before blowing a kiss toward him. I choke on my breath hearing Lucy's words. "I can't believe you." I breathe out a loud laugh. But my loud laugh turns to a loud gasp when a savagely fierce and outrageous slap lands on Lucy's right cheek by the curly head, making her chair overbalance on the ground. Lucy cries out in pain as she's now fallen on the ground lopsided and one of her upper arms is now sandwiched between the chair and concrete floor. "You son of a bitch!" Lucy let out a painful and bitter scream. Her cheek instantly changes its color into deep red with five fingers printed on it immensely. We should've feared them. They are certainly so dangerous, vicious and they won't think twice about harming-fuck that - killing us. But here we were making fun of them and laughing our asses off. We are lucky that we are still alive. "Oh my God! Lucy, are you okay?" My eyes widen in shock as I start wiggling in the tight knots. Lucy starts crying like a baby as tears roll down her cheeks. I bet she never got a slap like this in her whole twenty-year-old life. I seriously feel bad for her and regret bringing her with me in the first place. Lucy is not only my best friend but more than a sister to me. I try to rip the knots off and ran toward Lucy to help her but I fail. Immense fierce shoot through my nerves as my breathing became harsh and the anger building inside me is so powerful now. "Stop this nonsense! And you, answer the fucking questions." The curly head, let out an angry growl at Lucy before pointing his gun toward me. He has the same foreign accent as Dimitri. "Make me." I grit my teeth so hard that it's a nanosecond away from breaking. "So you like it rough?" His angry bloodshot eyes meet my furious ones. One moment I'm boiling in rage and the next moment I'm thrown on the ground with a brutal force as I felt unbearable pain all over my body. My already injured head hit the concrete hard, making me scream in pain and a few small broken pieces of wood are pierced on my back and arms. Yes, that asshole punched me so hard that I met the ground and the chair is now broken under me. "No! You asshole, how dare you?!" Lucy let out a deafening scream, making me hiss in pain more. No doubt this girl is good at screaming. Suddenly the man's phone buzz. He quickly answers the call and starts talking in his mother tongue which I assume is Russian. All of a sudden, his eyes blaze in rage and shoot directly at me. "Where the fuck is Landon? Ty suka, you're dead tonight!" He yells and makes his way toward me furiously before kicking me on the stomach. [Russian - you bitch] I whimper in pain and try to clutch my stomach but my hands and legs are violently tied. When another blow comes, Dimitri stops the fussing man and warns calmly. "Stop, Andrey. We need these sluts alive for a while." I look at Lucy who's already looking at me with wet eyes holding a storm of agony. I silently request her to come down and promise I won't let anything happen to her. I made plan for years to reach them. Everything was going well until Dimitri somehow got to know that we were following him and fucked up my plan. "YA dumayu, chto boss dolzhen vstretit'sya s gostyami." Dimitri suddenly speaks, making the two men look at him unbelievably. Lucy and I look at them puzzlingly with mouth slightly open. [Russian - I think, the boss should meet the guests.] Obviously we don't know Russian. So we understand nothing and this makes me more angry wanting me to rip off my own hair. I'm so angry at myself right now. Like hands and legs tied and beaten by a Russian scoundrel in the middle of somewhere were the last thing in my plan. "Ty chertovski shutish', pravil'no ? Pochemu my dolzhny bespokoit' yego s takoy glupoy problemoy? On budet ochen' rasstroyen, yesli my ne reshim etot vopros samostoyatel'no." The buzz cut, standing next to Andrey speaks with a hard tone, pointing a finger at us. [Russian- You fucking kidding, right? Why should we bother him with such a silly issue? He'll be very upset if we don't solve this matter on our own] All of them silently pass looks like they're talking to each other passively and then glare at us for the last time before walking out of the basement, leaving us dumbfounded. I let out an angry and frustrated groan as soon as they are gone. I try to calm my ragged breathing and pounding heart. But they surely are brainless. "Lucy, can you help me to untie the knots? Can you move you hands?" I whisper to Lucy who seems to try to move her hand a bit immediately to examine. "Yes, I can." "Then listen to me carefully. We've to do this within a few minutes until someone comes." I speak as I crawl to her until her back is facing me. Lucy is lying on her side and her hand tied behind the chair, so basically she can untie me using her hands though it'd be very difficult as one of her upper arms is pressed to the ground. I have to sit behind her back so that she can use her tied hands to loosen mine. I quickly turned around and now our hands are face-to-face. I stretch my hands more to Lucy who starts losing the knots blindly. It's quite impossible because she's facing away and not able to see while working with the ropes. "I can't! It's so fucking tight." "Try harder, bitch." But somehow she successfully unties me and I sigh heavily in relief. "Thank God, you did it!" I breathe out a small laugh. "Yeah." I feel her wide and proud smile. I quickly untie my legs and then release Lucy. We both are injured badly but I'm virtually bleeding. Lucy got some cuts but they aren't as deep as mine.Chapter Twenty-One: The Shape of a CrownEmma VolkovEngagement didn’t feel like celebration.It felt like architecture.Everything rearranged itself around a future that had not yet arrived, beams sliding into place with a quiet inevitability. Invitations weren’t sent so much as anticipated. Security protocols multiplied. Schedules braided together until it was impossible to tell where my authority ended and Lucas’s began—by design, not accident.Alignment, after all, was about shared load-bearing.I woke early most mornings now, before the house fully stirred. The ring caught the first light, a thin circle of certainty against my skin. I had expected it to feel foreign. It didn’t. It felt… intentional.The first test came a week after the announcement.Not with violence.With ceremony.---They called it a summit. Neutral ground again—Zurich this time—where bankers wore power better than soldiers ever had. The agenda was mundane on paper: shipping insurance, asset freezes, legal gra
Chapter Twenty: The Weight of YesEmma VolkovPower announces itself long before it settles.I felt it the morning after the engagement talks went public—not in the calls or the messages or the sudden politeness of men who had once dismissed me, but in the way silence shifted around me. People waited now. Measured. Calculated. As if my eventual decision had become a kind of weather system—unavoidable, capable of rearranging landscapes.I didn’t rush it.Rushing was for people who needed certainty to survive.I needed truth.The villa moved differently these days. Guards were more alert, not because danger had increased but because significance had. Maids whispered less. Advisors spoke more carefully. Every choice was weighed for implication.And Lucas—Lucas watched everything with a stillness that told me he understood the cost of patience.We didn’t speak about the ring.Not once.That restraint did more to sway me than any declaration ever could.---The test came from an unexpected
Chapter Nineteen: Terms of a CrownEmma VolkovTime did not slow down for my decision.If anything, it accelerated—as if the world sensed hesitation and leaned in closer, waiting to see which way I’d fall. News traveled fast in our circles, even without confirmation. A delayed answer was an answer in itself, and everyone was already rewriting it to suit their agendas.I didn’t announce anything.I watched.That was my advantage.The villa in Geneva became quieter in the days that followed. Lucas respected my space in the way only powerful men who weren’t afraid of losing control could. No pressure. No reminders. No lingering looks weighted with expectation.Which, perversely, made the choice heavier.I spent long hours walking along the lake, replaying every version of the future I could imagine. In some, I returned to Moscow, took my place beside my father, and let the Volkov legacy continue unchallenged. In others, I stayed in Italy as Lucas’s ally—but not his wife—always provisiona
Chapter Eighteen: A Question Sharper Than a BladeEmma VolkovMarriage, I learned, is a word that sounds different in rooms where men decide wars.It isn’t romantic there. It isn’t soft. It’s strategic, sharpened, measured by what it costs and what it secures. I’d heard it all my life spoken like a contract, like a weapon wrapped in silk. My mother used to say that love and power rarely shared a table—but when they did, someone always paid.I didn’t expect that someone might be me.Geneva ended without bloodshed, which in our world counted as a miracle. The lake reflected calm skies while beneath the surface, alliances rewired themselves quietly. We stayed two more days, enough time to let the image of unity sink in. Enough time for whispers to grow teeth.I felt them everywhere—in lingering looks, in pauses that lasted half a second too long.Emma Volkov.Lucas Moretti.Together.The rumor mill worked faster than any intelligence network.On the third evening, Lucas asked me to join
Chapter Eighteen: A Question Sharper Than a BladeEmma VolkovMarriage, I learned, is a word that sounds different in rooms where men decide wars.It isn’t romantic there. It isn’t soft. It’s strategic, sharpened, measured by what it costs and what it secures. I’d heard it all my life spoken like a contract, like a weapon wrapped in silk. My mother used to say that love and power rarely shared a table—but when they did, someone always paid.I didn’t expect that someone might be me.Geneva ended without bloodshed, which in our world counted as a miracle. The lake reflected calm skies while beneath the surface, alliances rewired themselves quietly. We stayed two more days, enough time to let the image of unity sink in. Enough time for whispers to grow teeth.I felt them everywhere—in lingering looks, in pauses that lasted half a second too long.Emma Volkov.Lucas Moretti.Together.The rumor mill worked faster than any intelligence network.On the third evening, Lucas asked me to join
Emma VolkovPeace is never silent.It hums.It settles into the cracks left behind by violence, vibrating with all the things that haven’t happened yet. That was what I felt in the days after Venice—not relief, not victory, but a low, constant awareness that the world was holding itself together with careful hands.We stayed coastal, moving north in measured increments. Each place was temporary by design: a converted farmhouse with a view of vineyards; a modern villa tucked into a cliffside; a narrow townhouse in a city that pretended not to notice us. Lucas rotated men constantly. Routes changed. Patterns broke before they could form.Control without complacency.I watched him work and understood why people followed him—not out of fear alone, but because he made decisions that kept them alive.The quiet gave me space to think.Which was dangerous.---One evening, after a long day of briefings and half-sleep, I found Lucas alone in a study that smelled of paper and dust. Maps were sp







